Prudes
by bluRaaven
Summary: Thonar Silver-Blood hosts a party and Wulf decides to liven it up a bit. Argis plays along. SMUT and shenanigans.


So I searched whether Skyrim has something of an equivalent to Halloween. Instead I found this:_ 30__th__ of Frostfall_ - _In 4E 171, the __Great War__ began on this day when then-Emperor __Titus Mede II__ rejected a __Thalmor__ ultimatum. _And my brain nope'd right past it since that would mean lots of angst. Wulf and Argis are slowly getting closer so I allowed myself this tiny jump into the future.

**WARNING:** This story contains a M/M couple and explicit sex in a (semi)public place. If any of the above or the combination of all three makes you feel uncomfortable, this really is not the right story for you.

Anybody who has not yet fled and is unfamiliar with the characters; Wulf is the Dragonborn and Thane of Markarth, Argis his housecarl and the Silver-Bloods are a bunch of bores. Enjoy!

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><p>"How do I look?"<p>

Argis raised his head to seize up his Thane and groaned inwardly. Only Wulf would think of going to the annual Silver-Blood costume party dressed as a Forsworn. He had a leather kilt, the boots and bracers complete with fur and bones and a headdress made from a deer's skull tucked under his arm. Even if it had not been so appallingly inappropriate that it made the housecarl wince, the outfit was skimpy enough that he hoped it would not get them arrested on the brief way to the Silver-Blood manor.

Wulf grinned as if he had just read Argis' thoughts and spread his arms. "Ready to scandalize?"

The blond warrior nodded; he had his armour, shield and sword and sent up a prayer to the Gods that he would not need them tonight. He was not officially invited to the social event, but as his Thane's housecarl he would be expected. At least he'd have a nice view.

Argis let his eyes roam, from Wulf's powerful thighs up, skirting over the contours of the kilt which did not leave much to the imagination, over to the trail of hair on his sculpted stomach and the broad plains of his chest, equally matted with dark curls. A very nice view indeed, and one that, running late or not, he'd love to map with his hands and now would have to share with all the party guests.

Let them know what they were missing out on.

Wulf was in an exceptionally good mood tonight, talking without pause as they walked side by side. Despite the freezing temperatures he had not bothered with a coat; they would not have to go far, after all. He had however put up an effort and braided his hair and trimmed back his beard to better frame his jaw. Argis thought it was a pity; he liked to run his fingers through it, but Wulf claimed it itched if it he let it grow beyond roughly an inch of length.

After a while though the housecarl's silence must have registered with the Nord. He poked Argis in the side with his elbow, a gesture almost lost with the steel breastplate the warrior was wearing and gave him one of his mischievous lopsided smiles. "I'm sure it will be fun."

"If you say so," Argis replied neutrally. He hated those events and he had had attended enough of them under late Thane Bjorn to know what he was talking about.

"You'll see," Wulf said and firmly rapped the knocker against the metal doors, eliciting a deep, resonant ring.

The doors swung open almost immediately after and the white-haired woman that must have been standing directly behind them curtsied and bid them welcome. Wulf thrust his antlered helmet into her hands as soon as she had straightened and brushed past her whilst she was staring at him open-mouthed. He might have missed the glare she shot at his back, but Argis did not and he edged his way past the frowning servant to catch up to his Thane.

The foyer of the Silver-Blood manor was well lit with many candles burning in massive silver holders, casting their light on the opulent tapestries which decorated the walls. A tall figure at the end of the hall turned, startled by their appearance.

"Thane Wulfryk." The honeyed tone held a note of surprise.

Argis felt his jaw clench when he saw who had been invited as well. Thongvor's dislike of the Thalmor was no secret, but his younger brother was an opportunist and not disinclined to rub shoulder with the elves. Ondolemar might be an incompetent moron, but that did not mean he could not become a danger. At least his ever-present watchdogs were nowhere in sight.

"Justiciar," Wulf replied courteously enough, only to ruin it with his following remark. "I see you are dressed as a Thalmor agent. I congratulate your ingenuity. They look very authentic; the clothes."

"That's because they are."

Wulf made a small noncommittal 'mmm' sound. "Dyed with the tears and blood of innocents, no doubt. I must say I couldn't acquire the robes or I might have tried it myself. Unfortunately black makes me look so pale."

The Altmer's face scrunched up, bloodless lips pursed. "And you are... a barbarian," he stated, condescendingly. "How fitting." Yet the snobbish mer's green eyes were wandering over the half-naked Nord in a way that made Argis want to put them out.

Wulf beat him to any rash actions and laughed, having noticed the scrutiny himself. "You can stop looking for my amulet," he told the Justiciar, "You won't find it. You see, _today_ I'm a Daedra worshipper." And with that he moved past and into the main hall where other people were mingling in clusters of twos or threes.

Argis followed and added the elf to the mental list of people he might have to kill one day.

The party was in full swing already, as Wulf had insisted on them arriving fashionably late. Thonar spotted them first and ambled over to greet the newcomers, his smarmy smile like a layer of oil floating atop clean water. He introduced his wife who, as the whole city knew, had only married him for his money, before his shifty eyes settled on Ondolemar and he moved away again.

Wulf bent to kiss the back of Betrid's hand when she proffered it. "The colour of the dress matches that your eyes, my lady," he murmured softly and straightened again. "And the lines the wrinkles around them."

He retreated fast enough that the slap she aimed at him caught Nepos full in the face, who in his shock sent the delicate glass flying out of his hands and it spilled its contents all over the front of lady Rhiada's dress. Betrid spent the next minutes apologizing to them both and Wulfryk used the distraction to go into hiding amongst the numerous guests.

Wulf exchanged small talk and pleasantries with Raerek and Legate Emmanuel and Argis followed his Thane, a silent, menacing shadow. The housecarl refused any drink he was offered, but helped himself to the food.

Looking around he spotted Endon, Markarth's most important silver-smith and his wife as well as various other members of the extensive Silver-Blood family. Some he recognized from his former visits, others by their unmistakable aura of superiority and outrageous displays of wealth. It appeared they had come from all over the Reach, and if there had ever been such a thing as an ideal time and place for a Forsworn hit squad, this would be it.

Argis allowed himself for a brief moment of disappointment when nobody jumped from behind the huge flowerpots to bury an axe in Thongvor's head and glared over his Thane's head at the patriarch who gave the impression as if he would like nothing more than to throw Wulfryk out on the spot. In the end the Nord was distracted by one of the servants asking something about the wine and Wulf slipped away, through a connecting corridor and back into the main hall at the other side of the room.

In one of the better lit corners Ogmund was softly playing the flute, accompanied by Yngvar and his drums. Wulf gave them both a wide berth and so did Argis. They wove their way through a whole army of servants, the housecarl picking a little something off every tray they balanced.

Argis was sure that he would spend the evening standing guard in one corner as he had in the past, and so it was to his utmost surprise that he found that he was enjoying himself greatly. True, the only people besides Wulf that he exchanged any words with were the servants when they asked him if there was something they could do for him and most of the time he simply observed as Wulf did his duty as a Thane, mixing with Markarth's richest and most influential citizens.

But Wulf always returned to him in order to make disparaging remarks, trade gossip and some other scandalous things that could not have been anything but fabrications of the other Nord's occasionally over imaginative mind.

Then again Markarth was always good for a surprise; Argis had long ago given up on believing anything to be impossible. He bent his head, when Wulf approached to whisper in his ear.

"See that woman? She is sleeping with that guy."

The housecarl looked up to see Madame Adela, the estranged wife of Betrid's older brother engaged in a conversation with some young man dressed in finery and with an artfully curled moustache. She was a good thirty years older than the lad and decked out in gemstones the size of a quail's eggs. He could not see anything that might indicate a liaison, only a brief touch of her hand on his arm here and there, but Wulf sounded convinced and it was funnier to believe all the little lies he made up.

It became a game.

"What about him?" Argis pointed his chin at Reburrus who was talking to Orla, one of the priestesses of Dibella, across the room. They were rather close. "Think he's doing her?"

"Nah." Wulf's eyes narrowed. "He likes... sheep."

Argis choked on the pastry he was eating. The dry crumbs tickling his throat and he had a violent coughing fit that let up when Wulf pounded on his back. A while later Orla hung from the Legate's arm who looked as out of place here in his polished Imperial armour as Argis felt and Reburrus passed by them.

"Baaah."

The Imperial's head snapped around to see where the sound had come from, but by all accounts Wulf was busy talking to his housecarl and he passed with a frown before Argis suffocated from his effort not to guffaw right in the man's confused face. Wulf looked at him with an innocent smile and went in search for his next victim.

And so it went on. Before the night was halfway over Wulf, who apparently was gifted with a magical insight concerning such things, had sniffed out every illicit affair between the guests and gotten Raerek's nephew and some cousin of Thonar's into a drunk brawl over an insult that nobody knew where it had actually come from. Somewhen, _somehow_ Wulf managed to cover Ogmund's flute in horker fat and got into a heated debate over mead versus wine with Ondolemar that resulted in a drinking contest which in turn ended with the Justiciar passed out on a futon in the corner and, as if that was not enough, he set up old Nepos on a date with the unsuspecting Senna, another priestess of Dibella.

By then Argis' stomach hurt from trying to hold in the laughter. It seemed that nobody had an inkling about who the troublemaker amongst them was and watching the nobility guess and flock together in tiny groups reminded him of fowl clucking in panic, sensing that there was a fox in the henhouse.

It must have been around midnight when his Thane appeared at his side again and hid a yawn in the crook if his elbow.

"Party's winding down. I might have to get drunk and cause a scene." He was well on the way of achieving the first, Argis thought. He had not seen Wulf without a drink in his hand since they had arrived and he knew how dutifully the servants kept the guests' cups full.

Argis had eaten his fill, but stayed away from the alcohol. He wanted to have a clear head and be ready if the need arose.

"What will you do?" he asked, playing along.

Wulf's eyes narrowed in thought. "I'll accuse Betrid of cuckolding me with her husband."

Argis shook his head. "They'll never invite you again."

Wulf tapped a finger against the glass in his hand, a mocking grin on his face. "That's the point, Sunshine." He downed the rest of the drink in one go and grimaced.

"I've got to take a piss. Watch my back and keep it free of knives, yes?"

Argis did just that, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Wulf could have chosen some better place than the paved courtyard in front of the servants' entrance to the manor to relieve himself, but the housecarl did not begrudge him his silent demonstration of his disdain for the Silver-Bloods.

Argis watched his breath mist in the winter air and tilted his head back to look at the stars overhead. It really was a beautiful night. He wished they could have spent it anywhere but here.

"It's quiet."

Argis jerked in surprise; he had not heard Wulf coming closer. His Thane still had the irritating habit to pop up on his blind side, and for some reasons his own ability to sense others deserted him when it came to the Nord beside him. Maybe it was because they were intimate, or maybe Argis trusted Wulfryk enough to lower his defences. Either way, the alley that wound down into the city was deserted, Markarth asleep and Wulf tantalizingly close.

Argis changed his stance, uncrossed his arms and drew his lover closer. Wulf rested his chin on Argis' shoulder, but drew back with a huff when his bare chest touched the cold metal of his housecarl's breastplate. "You want to go back in?" Argis asked, running his hands up and down Wulf's arms.

"Not yet," the dark haired warrior whispered, unaffected by the cold.

Argis was in no hurry either. He let his hands roam, over Wulf's chest and stomach, feeling coarse hair and defined muscles, and down his sides again to settle at his hips. Wulfryk's skin was hot in the frigid air, almost feverishly so, the Nord kept warm by the booze, his Nord blood or the proximity of his lover.

Wulf leaned in and nipped at Argis' neck, the housecarl's head rolling to the side to give him better access. He felt the electric current of pleasure surge through him, right to the base of his spine as Wulf licked his way down, past his jaw and over his throat. Argis rubbed the back of the other man's neck, keeping him close, wanting more contact and being denied by the hard layer of his armour between them.

He cursed and Wulf chuckled and then he was sinking to his knees, hands at Argis' hips and the warrior came to himself when he felt Wulfryk tug at the laces in his pants.

"Wha- ?"

Wulf blew into his hands and rubbed them together before he forcefully yanked Argis' pants down to the warrior's mid-thighs and freed his manhood. Even drunk he was astonishingly dexterous. The thought flashed through the housecarl's mind though he could not suppress the flinch at the brief touch of cold fingers. A part of him, the one that would always belong to the country boy was mortified, the other curious whether this really was happening.

Wulf leaned in to kiss the soft skin where Argis' thigh joined his groin, sucking gently before moving on, just an inch further. So close and yet it relieved nothing of the ache Argis felt building in his loins.

They were practically out in the street. Any moment somebody could walk past, a guest, a guard-

The hot breath on his manhood was a tease, maddening in its insubstantiality. Argis needed more, to feel the heat, friction,... _something_. Wulf's hands were growing warm at the back of his thighs and he knew that he should stop this madness right now. Argis reached for Wulf's head, fingers threading through the dark hair, to pull him away. But somehow he ended up pulling him closer, making soft sounds of encouragement.

The alley was still empty, the sounds of celebration, voices and music alike muted by the thick stone walls.

Had anybody noticed their departure? Would they come looking?

Wulf mouthed at the base of Argis' cock and the warrior decided that, fuck it, he wouldn't have cared if they had been at court. Each pass of his mouth was accompanied by a flare of heat, and then cold again as Wulf licked his way up from base to tip without a hurry. Argis felt himself grow hard and twitch, his cock jumping against his lover's lips, streaking them with salt. He looked down to see Wulf tonguing at the head of his cock, staring up at his lover with an intensity that turned the fire in Argis' belly into a blaze. Their gazes met and Wulf paused his administrations only long enough to grin up at him before he sucked to pull Argis' cock into his mouth.

The housecarl watched himself be engulfed, heat and wetness and, "_Ó mea déithe_."

The words came out as a breathless whisper and Wulf moaned in answer, happy with the reaction he got and Argis bit his hand to stop himself from making any more sounds. He doubted anybody would hear him over Yngvar and Ogmund's mismatched duet, but his composure was unravelling fast as Wulf was plunging his head down his cock greedily, changing the angle now and then, experimenting with what made his housecarl's breath catch and stutter.

If his knees ached, he gave no sign of it though his jaw had to hurt – with the angle it was inevitable – and he did pull off after a while and stroked Argis' cock with one hand, freeing his balls with the other. Each pass of his fingers, each squeeze of the base was accompanied by a lick, at first alternating and then together. Wulf sucked at the tip, the feeling almost too intense, and then Argis felt the graze of teeth as he went down on him again.

He hit the back of his lover's throat and pushed past, felt Wulf choke briefly before he drew him in further, heard him pant around his cock, the tight coil in Argis' stomach easing, his control slipping-

And then there were footsteps, more than one pair and he was so close, and _Dibella, don't let him stop now_!

Their leaving had not gone unnoticed and four people rounded the corner, first and foremost some Silver-Blood hireling.

"Thane Wulfryk- ?" The man took in the scene before him, stumbled and stopped, forgetting everything else he might have had to say.

To Argis' utter frustration Wulf pulled off halfway. "Can't you see I'm busy down here?!" the Nord mumbled over the cock in his mouth.

Argis tightened his grip on his lover's hair, pulled him forward again and Wulf went with it easily, eyes falling closed, his hand working at his groin and the other massaging Argis' balls. The housecarl did not recognize his own voice, breathless, rough when he spoke, his thumb caressing his lover's temple. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

Wulf hummed in agreement and the back of Argis' head hit the wall behind him. The mercenary was still staring at them, until the housecarl spared a glare for him, hand going for the hilt of his sword. The people could not flee fast enough then, and with many a mumbled apology. Wulf was laughing, Argis could feel it, the clenching around his cock. If they had given the servants something to gossip about for the rest of the winter, they should have something out of this as well, he figured.

Argis tightened his grip on Wulf's hair, tried to draw him closer and then he could hold back no more and began to thrust. They lost their rhythm quickly, their actions becoming sloppy and Argis growing desperate as he fucked his lover's throat, deep hard thrusts, stomach flexing. He would not last long like this, wanted to go on forever, but already the edge was too close and he fell over it with a gasp.

Argis came with his eyes scrunched closed, open-mouthed and for a long while he simply savoured each wave of ecstasy. The Nord shuddered, half-bowed over his lover from the intensity of his orgasm, fingers digging into Wulf's shoulders. And Wulf steadied him and swallowed, his thumbs rubbing circles over Argis' groin, pressing into that sensitive spot at the juncture of his thighs.

He had taken care of himself, Argis saw when he opened his eyes again, and he regretted that he had not had a hand in that.

The housecarl hissed when Wulf kept sucking past the point where pleasure turned unbearable, his sensitive manhood giving one last twitch, one spurt, before he slipped out of his lover's mouth. A thin string of saliva connected them for a moment and then it was gone, and Wulf pulled away, running the back of his hand over his mouth to wipe it of spit and seed.

He grinned up at Argis, whose knees were suddenly threatening to give away. He was glad of the support of the wall then. Wulf rose to his feet and tucked Argis' spent cock away, laced up his pants again and spit out a pubic hair.

Argis' eyes were watering, but even if they had not been he would have been aware of nothing but the man before him. He drew him into a passionate kiss, their teeth clicking together. The housecarl could feel their beards rasp and taste sweet Firebrand wine on Wulf's tongue, and himself and they both groaned, sharing a breath until they ran out of air and had to part.

Wulf was breathing hard, but he was smiling again. "That was fun."

Argis could only agree. "Yeah. Thanks."

Wulf laughed out loud and shivered, while Argis was fully clothed he still was half naked and with the heat of the moment passed and the sweat cooling in the winter air he had to be freezing. Wulf tugged at Argis' hand, lacing their fingers together. "C'mon, let's go home so you can thank me properly."

oooo

With nothing else to do and the weather too bad for training Argis paid the 'Shed a visit on the next day. The tavern was crowded, but there was a small respectful circle of free space around their regular's table and the general mood seemed subdued. Most soldiers were crowding around the roaring fireplaces, warming their hands, speculating about when the snowstorm would break and sipping Halof's homemade winter brews: mulled wine and hot spiced mead. Argis and Lars had a tankard each and they were eating an early lunch when the doors opened once more and the following icy gust of wind made heads turn.

A moment later Wulf appeared at their table, red-faced and brushing snow out of his hair. "Hello, Lars," he greeted the soldier good-naturedly before filching a steaming sweet bun from the redhead's plate despite the man's protests and biting into it with gusto. The filling was still liquid and hot and Wulf moaned in delight as he licked it from his thumb and, after popping the rest of the dessert into his mouth, sucked the sticky syrup from his fore and middle finger. Argis' pants suddenly felt way too confining and the air in the tavern hot enough to make him sweat. The way Wulf's eyes flickered up to his lover's betrayed that he was well aware of the effect the little show was having on Argis and his grin held a promise of all the things they could do once at home. Argis swallowed and looked away, lest he jump his Thane then and there.

Wulfryk slid onto the bench to the housecarl's left, giving the warrior's thigh a squeeze that made Argis' breath catch and waved at Halof to catch the innkeeper's attention before turning to his lover, who nudged his plate closer so the other Nord could eat too, being no longer hungry for food himself. The sooner the food was gone, the sooner they could leave.

"I've had to pay the Jarl forty Septims for him to keep the S-B's out of my hair. Prudes!" Wulf grumbled unhappily between bites. "Public indecency, my ass."

Lars' eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at the dark haired warrior, gaze flickering back to his friend. "Is it true?" he whispered.

Argis grinned at the memories and chuckled as he swirled his drink around. "Best party _ever_."

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><p>Wulf and Argis' story is told in the Blacktyde Chronicles that start with 'Before the Storm'. I originally meant for this to feature in High Tide, but I'll probably just throw in some references now. I just wanted the boys to have some fun.<p> 


End file.
